Hitman
by ChAOtiC ReApEr
Summary: What if Harry hired a hitman to take out Voldemort. What if that hitman was codename 47.


**Disclaimer: ****I do not own Harry Potter J.K. Rowling does.**

**I would like to thank my beta MariusDarkwolf for editing this chapter.**

**A/N: I was watching the trailer for the latest Hitman game and I thought what would have happened if Harry Potter hired him and this is the result of that. It is not that good to be honest but I like it. Tell me what you think.**

Harry Potter was one frustrated wizard, his mentor was dead and the person who wanted to kill him namely one Lord Voldemort was still out there looking for him. He was currently sitting in Grimauld Place passing time by sifting through a pile of letters, papers and other junk that Sirius never thought of looking through when he was alive. As he snorted and threw aside another magazine of Hustler that Sirius's father had somehow taken a liking to a small card caught his eye, it was a plain white card with a silver mark on it. He picked it up and looked at it wondering who on earth would send a business card to this address and as he read it his eyes grew bigger and bigger and a smile grew on his face. Slowly he got up and grabbed his coat and conspicuously made his way out of the house and into the night searching for the nearest telephone.

The sunlight poured into the room through the large French windows, illuminating the various objects in the room. The lone occupant of the room was currently sitting by the window watching the hustle and bustle down on the street below.

Slowly he swirled the glass of brandy he had in his right hand and took a sip enjoying the way the liquor slightly burned his throat on the way down. His head was clean shaven and his face had the look of a permanent frown set upon it. If anyone was to look at him they would think of him as an ordinary business man or accountant, but if one was to look at the back of his head they would immediately question their thoughts about him and wonder why was there a barcode tattooed to his head. Suddenly a beeping noise sounded of on the table breaking the silence of the room. The man never once showed an emotion on his face as he got up and walked towards the sound with purposeful strides.

The noise, it seemed, came from his laptop. Lightly he ran a finger across the emblem on its front, before opening it and typing in his password. A female voice came through the speakers of the laptop, loud and clear giving out details that would have made any other man run to the police. The man nodded to himself and hit the enter button, accepting his new mission. He closed the laptop and went to his closet picking out his usual attire of a black suit, white shirt, red tie and black shoes. After changing and getting everything sorted out he lifted up his briefcase and looked outside one last time before setting out to his new destination, England.

The man looked up from his hiding spot behind the large row of hedges surrounding the manor house; Riddle Manor of Little Hangleton, the home of his target. The client had warned him that the target was extremely dangerous and had many bodyguards around. He used his binoculars to scout out the entrance to their large manor house where the target lay, and found only a single measly guard standing outside shivering in the bitter cold. He had scouted out the whole house and had only found one point of entry, the front door. The client had also placed an odd request, a request that he wear a simple necklace that the client had produced for him. Not one for superstition the man had worn it and slowly he crept around using the shadows and made his way to the front door.

As he came closer to the entrance, the guard had still not noticed him, so he decided to make a silent kill. Slowly he crept upon the man until he was standing right behind him. The man unaware of lurking danger hugged himself in a desperate attempt to stay warm, the man totally unaffected by the weather.

In one quick motion the man stood up and grabbed the guard around the head and snapped his neck. The noise was drowned out by the droning of the night insects. He dragged the guard away from the door, into some large bushes to the side. There he removed his clothes and donned the guards black robe and white mask. A simple thought fluttered through his mind as he recalled funnily enough, that in all of his missions there was always someone who wore the exact same size clothing as him. He carefully folded his suit and hid it away in the bushes.

He walked to the front door and carefully opened it, causing the faintest of creaks to escape. Stealthily he entered and closed the door behind him. He looked around and saw that the house was quite old and had not been looked after well, the paint was peeling, some floorboards were missing and there were water marks on the walls.

Slowly he sneaked along, his footsteps silent and his eyes ever watchful. He crept along the passageway until he came to the first doorway which was open and had light streaming from it onto the passageway. The man froze and listened, his ears trained on the room, waiting for any sign of movement. After a few seconds his ears perked up as he heard movement coming from the room. He crept forward with his back to the wall, up until the edge of the doorway and peeked inside. He saw a single man standing beside a table facing away from him. The man was of average height, had long blond hair, and a cane in his hand. The blond appeared to be reading some documents on the table and had no idea that he was being watched. The client had offered a bonus for killing any others that were in the house, and the man was not one to turn down easy money, so he silently crept into the room.

The only light in the room came from an old gas lamp on the wall and it easily gave the man some shadows to walk in. He crept up behind the blond and pulled out his silenced silver pistol. He stood up and slowly leveled it to the blonds head and all that was heard was a slight whistling noise and a dull thud as the blond fell forward onto the table with a large gaping hole in his head.

The man walked out of the room and carried on his journey to his real target. he came up to a large staircase winding upwards to the second floor and was about to ascend it when a noise caused him to stop and hide away in the shadows. It seemed to come from what appeared to be the kitchen.

So he walked along in the shadows and entered the dark kitchen. He knelt down behind the large table and saw a figure of a large man moving about on the other side of the kitchen. What moonlight that could seep through the dirt and grime on the windows allowed the man to get a good look at the large man.

He was wearing a set of tattered and old robes, his hair was long and unkempt, his eyes appeared to be yellowish in color and his nails were extremely long. Slowly the man snuck forward up to the large man who was too busy scrounging in the drawers looking for something. The man got out his silver knife, and in one quick motion grabbed onto the top of the large man's head and easily slit his throat with the extremely sharp blade. The blade sliced through the flesh like a hot knife through butter and oddly enough gave off a burning smell. The man let go of the large man as he gurgled about trying to breathe but only taking in his own blood.

The man wiped his blade on the other man's robes and walked out and up the stairs. As he slowly made his way up a squeaking rat tried to pass him from behind, in a flash the man grabbed it and squeezed its head hard causing it to die a painful death. He tossed the rat away and came to the first room with its door closed.

Light seemed to escape from the keyhole so he got down and peeked through. Inside he saw two people, a man and a woman. Both were naked and were having intercourse with the woman riding the man. He pulled out both his silver silenced pistol and opened the door and entered the room. The occupants of the room were to lost in their passion to notice him as they moaned to each other "Oh Bellatrix."

"Yes Snape right there."

A series of soft putting noses erupted as the man rained bullets down upon the two bringing death to them along with their climax. As the man stopped shooting he surveyed the room as he watched the feathers from the torn pillows slowly fall back to the ground and the woman now riddled with bullet holes slowly fall forward onto her mate embracing him in death. He left the room and made his way to the final room.

The door was wide open revealing a large room with a large fireplace that was lit on one side. There was no furniture but a large throne like chair facing towards the fire. He peered closely and saw a figure was indeed sitting in the chair and he knew that this was his target; he could feel it in his bones.

Without any hesitation he strode forward, his feet not making a sound on the lush carpet underneath. Carefully he pulled out his most trusted friend from his pocket, his piano wire. He made his way right up until the back of the chair and stood up. He pulled on the two handles connected to the wire and made it taut stretching it to its limit. He looked forward and saw that the man sitting in the chair still did not notice him; he quickly lowered the wire until it was in line with his neck and pulled back tightly. Shocked the target gasped as the wire ripped through his weak flesh and constricted his airway. He thrashed about and tried to grab onto the wire but it was to no avail, the man held on too tight and was not letting go. The target coughed and choked out and soon his hands slowly dropped to the sides, he was dead. The man held on for a bit longer until finally letting go. The target slumped forward and collapsed onto the floor as the wire holding him up was removed.

Silent as ever the man put his weapon away and walked back downstairs through the silent house. He made his way outside and changed back into his suit. He made his way outside of the perimeter of the house and took out a cellphone and sent a quick message. He then strode of towards the little village close by to get a taxi to the nearest airport. Little did he know that his actions today just saved the entire wizarding Britain from years of pain, suffering and hardship. Who was he you might ask, well he is 47.

Many a mile away a beeping noise awakened one of the occupants of a large bedroom. He woke groggy from sleep and grabbed his cellphone from the bedside table and looked at the message. As he read it Harry James Potter smirked as he realized that his plan had worked. He put his phone back and snuggled back with his girlfriend Hermione and for once he slept peacefully.

**Please R&R and thank you for reading.**


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